


No Good Roads From Here

by AlexSimon



Category: Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell & Related Fandoms, Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell (TV), Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell - Susanna Clarke
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2016-01-07
Packaged: 2018-05-09 13:01:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5541041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexSimon/pseuds/AlexSimon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For this Prompt on the kink meme: </p><p>A simple request: Segundus/Strange, filthy as you like. Bonus points if Strange is oblivious to Segundus' starry-eyed devotion, believing it all to be just a bit of fun, and merrily resumes his prior relationship with Arabella/Grant (take your pick, depending on preference/story arc). More bonus if Strange seduces Segundus with boastful displays of magic. Kittens and confetti if Childermass is left to comfort sad Segundus afterwards.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

At the prearranged time, Mr John Segundus locked the door to his room and watched the tall mirror sitting in the corner.

It had been nothing to have it brought up a few months ago when the visits started. A mirror was a common thing to want in one's room and no one thought anything of it at all when he asked for one to be found as quickly as possible. Indeed, the only surprising thing was that Mr Segundus had not requested until he did more than then small hand mirror in his chest of drawers and once it was there, no one thought anything of the tall mirror in the corner of his room at all, except for Segundus.

It was, in the end, much later that than they agreed on when Mr Strange finally arrived.

Segundus had fallen asleep on top of his covers fully dressed by then and instead of watching Strange come through the mirror, as he very much liked to do, he was woken by a polite cough and opened his eyes to see his visitor standing next to his bed.

"Good evening, John," Mr Strange said.

Segundus pulled himself up, dismayed that his clothes and hair were now unkempt. Mr Strange always arrived looking so fine, like he had come by leisurely carriage ride instead a magical road behind his mirror. In anticipation of receiving Mr Strange, Segundus had taken care the afternoon before their meeting to neaten his hems and after dinner that evening had pressed his garments in anticipation of looking presentable. What a shame, he thought, to have done all of that and now to find himself looking every inch the church mouse.

Tonight, Strange was wearing clothes Segundus had never seen him in before, new and crisp despite his travels through wherever it was he came through to arrive to Segundus, a place Segundus imagined to be rather treacherous.

"May I sit?" Strange asked, looking at the space next to Segundus on the bed.

"Please!” said Segundus and scrambled over to make more room.

"My apologies for the late hour," said Strange. "I know we had agreed on an earlier time."

"We you delayed-" Segundus looked to the mirror, "in there?"

Strange smiled and leaned back against the wall where Segundus' bed sat and put his hands behind his head.

"Oh, nothing so interesting. I was with Mrs Strange, is all."

Segundus blinked and looked down at his hands.

"I- hope she is well. Is she well, Mr Strange?"

The room was quiet and Strange watched Segundus shift on the bed and guiltily avoid meeting his eyes.

"It's very polite of you to ask after Mrs Strange. But I'm afraid there's no protocol for you to follow on niceties toward the wife of your lover."

"I am aware-" said Segundus.

Strange sighed and put his hand on Segundus' knee to get his attention.

"Stop, please, John. If you would like me to ease your mind about Arabella again, I would be happy to, but not just now, please."

Segundus nodded and took a deep breath. He put a hand on top of Jonathan Strange's hand on his knee. He wanted to ask what Strange meant by saying that he was with Mrs Strange before arriving, but it was not his business, after all, and a very personal thing. In the end, he was just glad that Mr Strange had met him again.

"You brought no books with you this evening, Mr Strange."

"Ah. Well, it's very late. I didn't think there would be any time for tutoring, because of the hour, so I didn't bring any. I hope you aren't too disappointed."

"No, sir. Of course not."

"Good. Well, then. If I may."

Strange took him by his shirt and pulled him closer, and Segundus crawled up into his lap facing him and leaned down into a kiss.

Strange soon felt impatient with the kissing and had moved Segundus to a flat position in the bed and pulled loose his shirt from where it was tucked into his breeches.

"There's not time for much at all, tonight," muttered Strange, as much to himself as to Segundus as he loosened some of his own buttons. "Are you alright with-"

He stopped in the middle of unfastening the final button that would expose Segundus' most intimate area.

"Anything," said Segundus. "Anything at all."

Strange smiled and completed his task, admiring the result.

"You are always so agreeable, John," he said, and he took his place between the legs of John Segundus.

 

Strange had stayed longer than he meant to.

It had not taken long at to satisfy Segundus, who had then been eager to ensure equality in their arrangements. Strange was so aroused by then that it had hardly been a few kisses to his hardness, a few sweeps of lips up and down the length, a few moments of warmth and wet inside Segundus' mouth and he was done for.

It was nice to lie there for a little while afterward, Segundus' head on his chest, both of them naked from the waist down and Strange resting his hand on Segundus' buttocks. Segundus had wrapped himself around Strange, one leg over top of his, the naked lower half of his body pressed again him.

There had been enough time for both of them to become physically ready to enjoy each other again, but Strange got to talking about some work he had been doing recently, and Segundus had questions about it and by the time he had answered, the clock had struck quarter to four.

"I won't sleep tonight, I imagine," said Strange, stretching. "Sorry, John, would you mind moving please? It's time for me to go now."

While Strange dressed, Segundus undressed, as he was in his own bed, in his own home, and had hope of a few hours’ rest.

As he pulled himself back into his clothes, Strange caught side of Segundus sitting naked on the bed, where he had been observing Strange dressing. Caught, he looked away.

Segundus still blushed as easily as if he were the innocent that he had been on their first encounter. Strange normally did not find coyness appealing, but he knew in Segundus that it was genuine and he did not grudge him it. There were only two people who had come to Jonathan Strange untouched, and Segundus was one, so Strange supposed he could blush from time to at being watched unclothed or at being caught watching him if he liked.

Each time he visited and they spent too much time at talking magic, Strange wished later that they had devoted more effort to the other things they did together, the things between just their bodies. Each time he came here and took the man straight to bed, he remembered later some question from a letter or earlier evening together that he had been meaning to answer or something he had been meaning to demonstrate for him. Segundus had no way of knowing of course that his face when Strange performed magic for him was in many ways very similar to expression he wore when he had his deepest bodily pleasures.

"If there were a way," Segundus said, "you would be welcome here, for the rest of the night."

"Oh, that would be impossible tonight, of course."

Strange had not looked up from his jacket buttons, which currently had his full attention.

"Of course," Segundus agreed quickly. He wondered now if his nakedness was too forward and decided that it was. It had been foolish to think that Strange would stay, when there was his wife at home to think of.

"There may another time," he stumbled, though he knew there would not be. "I only mean, that you would be welcome any night you wished to rest, after we have-"

Segundus paused, unable to say out loud the words for the things that they did.

"After we have studied."

"Another time," said Strange in a distracted echo. He was already turned to the mirror, which was currently reflecting Segundus kneeling on the bed. "I believe I can return in a fortnight, perhaps. I will send word if it's possible."

Segundus had not gotten to watch Strange arrive, but he was able to watch the show of him dissolving into his bedroom mirror and slowly disappearing into the foggy blackness there.

A fortnight from their previous meeting was convenient for Strange, as it happened and he sent word that would attempt to arrive around 11:00 PM. Segundus locked the door at quarter to. He fell asleep at midnight. When he woke it was 7:00 in the morning, Mr Strange had not come.


	2. Chapter 2

Segundus tried not to think about the missed meeting too much in the following days.

Thankfully, he did not have to worry about Strange's health, as he knew that the country all would have known if some unexpected harm had come to one of their two magicians. Mr Strange was of course, busy, and a very important person as well. Segundus was not surprised that some appointments fell by the wayside. Segundus thought too of Mr Strange's beautiful wife and did not wonder that Strange, when he did have a spare moment, might not want to take time from her to come far away to a rather ragged bedroom and a lover who knew so little of matters of love. Once he had begun to think of Mrs Strange, he felt, as he always did, that he had surely done a very wrong thing, a very terrible thing, by allowing his feelings for Mr Strange to turn into action. To take from such a kind woman, even for a short time, something which was hers, made him deeply uneasy. He had no right to Strange after all, while she had every.

Segundus was surprised on the evening three days past the broken appointment, at an uncommonly early hour, when he looked up from his reading and saw the mirror wavering like a pond which had just a stone tossed into it. Within seconds, a speck in the distance that his mirror now showed became a man, and then Jonathan Strange was standing in his bedroom.

"Hello," said Strange. He pushed his hair back from his forehead but it fell quickly to the place he had moved it from.

"Mr Strange. This is unexpected."

"It was a dull evening," said Strange. "Bell is out and there was no one to talk to at home."

Segundus set down his book and pushed back the covers of the bed. Strange came and sat next to him.

"You're in bed early, John. Or are you? It was only 7:30 when I left."

"It is early, still," said Segundus. "I wasn't feeling well, so I came upstairs early."

"Not well?"

"Don't worry, please, Mr Strange."

Segundus was feeling, to own it, much better since Strange had arrived. He had not been forgotten and his spirits were lifted at the knowledge. It was flattering that Strange would think of him on an evening when he wasn't occupied.

Strange made himself comfortable leaned against the bed frame and turned to his host.

"John, I am very glad after all that you were here. I believe I was rude recently and I'm happy for the opportunity to apologize for it now."

Segundus could not very well pretend that he did not know what Strange meant and would not have wanted to be disingenuous even if he had any skill for it, so he shrugged in acceptance of the apology.

"I can only say that I understand and that my feelings weren't hurt. I am happy to see you now though."

"Good," said Strange. "Good. What are you reading?"

Strange reached over and turned the book in Segundus' hand to see the cover. His nose wrinkled in disapproval.

"What is it?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all. Please forget it. I've been with Gilbert Norrell too much, I think, judging people's reading habits. Oh damn, that reminds that I meant to bring something for you."

"How thoughtful, Mr Strange. I look forward to seeing it another time."

As he spoke, Strange leaned down to take off his shoes and once they were off, he lay back on the bed.

It was silly, but for a moment, Segundus wondered if he was welcome next to him, and remembered that it was his own bed and he lay down next to Strange, both of them on their backs looking up at the ceiling.

"It is so quiet out here," said Strange. "But then again, you're a quiet person. Do you enjoy it?"

"I am not particular," said Segundus.

Strange rolled over on his side and Segundus did the same and they were facing each other in the bed. Most of Strange's hair was pushed to one side against Segundus' pillow and their feet were touching at the bottom of the bed.

Strange reached up under Segundus' night shirt to stroke his side and was not met with any protest.

"Should I undress, Segundus?" asked Strange.

"Yes, please."

Strange rolled over onto his back and began to unfasten some of the buttons of his clothes. He was watched so intently by Segundus that he stopped in the middle of working one of them from its place and addressed his audience.

"Would you like to do this?" he asked.

Segundus nodded and sat up in the bed. He reached for Strange's clothes and Strange dropped his hands to let himself be undressed piece by piece.

"Oh, but this is nice, to go slowly," said Strange.

"Is it a thing you particularly like, to be undressed?"

"I have never known anyone to not enjoy it."

Strange gave a happy yawn as Segundus settled back next to him.

"If you move a bit, I can do the same for you," said Strange.

It was a small movement, from being leaned against Jonathan Strange, to on his stomach next to him. Segundus felt his night shirt being slipped upward and then he moved his arms so it could be pulled over his head. There were then kisses to his shoulders and the back of his neck. He lay naked underneath Strange and enjoyed the attention of his hands and lips, his eyes closed.

"Segundus, how old are you again?" asked Strange suddenly. He had one leg between Segundus' and was rubbing at his lower back.

"Thirty four. Why?"

"It's just that your skin is so soft, like someone much younger. Why hadn't I noticed before? Anyway, it's very nice."

Segundus had not figured out if it was right or not to thank someone for compliments given in bed, or even how much talking was required.

He gripped the pillow and pressed, without meaning to, his backside up into Strange, who gave an appreciative kiss to his neck before asking him if he was ready.

 

It was not quite 9:00 when Strange removed himself from John Segundus' bed to return home.

The men had both cleaned themselves and Segundus was removing the sheets from the bed as Mr Strange prepared to leave.

"John," said Strange. "I was thinking, that if you would like a break from all this solitude, that you could come visit me and Arabella sometime. We have lots of rooms."

Segundus stood next to his bed, his bare feet cold on the floor, his arms full of soiled sheets, not a single article of clothes on his body.

"That is very kind, thank you. I am not sure, though, that I am up for it."

"What do you mean?"

Segundus hated to be seen blushing so much, but he did now.

"I do not think that I could sit across from Mrs Strange at a table and look at her and talk to her as though I have done nothing wrong."

Strange frowned at him, his jacket half pulled over his arms.

"I'm sorry, it's a generous offer, and I am not judging you, only myself, Mr Strange."

Strange pulled on his jacket the rest of the way and took the few steps toward the mirror.

"As you like, Segundus."

Strange put his hand to the mirror Segundus had hardly had time to notice the change in the surface before Strange was gone and the magic began to dissipate behind him.


	3. Chapter 3

John Segundus told himself that he should not under any circumstances cry about what had happened. 

It was, for one, the right thing to have done. Having now done many things that he knew he shouldn't have, refusing the visit to Mr Strange's home was the very smallest correct thing he could do in response. If it ended their affair, then, well, it did. 

He had always known that Strange was not really his anyway and that they would have to stop what they were doing at some point. But no matter how hard he tried to console himself with reminders that their parting had always been nothing more than a matter of time, the thought of being cast off in reality was a devastating one for him. 

It had been exciting to feel wanted, and by such a person as Mr Strange of all people. Segundus was a new man in the world, one who had known love now, and had taken his first lover. To resume solitude with so little hope of respite from it did not set easy on him. 

He told himself many times that he should not under any circumstances cry, but he did that, each evening when he was alone. 

A week after he last saw Jonathan Strange, Segundus was in his room taking for himself the moments that he needed to grieve the lost affection of the person he loved. He had his face turned to the wall and was waiting to fall asleep when he heard a rustle and voice behind him say very clearly and firmly, "Enough of that. Stop. I am sick of seeing it." 

He rolled over and Strange was standing in front of the mirror, his arms crossed. 

"This is too much, Segundus," he said. 

"Mr Strange?"

"I looked in on you Thursday night and you were crying, Saturday and you were crying and now one week later, you are still crying."

Segundus sat up in the bed and made himself face Strange's frown.

"You looked in on me?"

"I thought I may have been a bit abrupt last time, so I found you in my basin. You were so upset that I looked again a few days later and then again a few days after that. You have done nothing but cry. What on earth is the matter?"

"We have quarreled. I thought you might not want to see me anymore."

"Well, I certainly won't if you carry on like this." 

Strange sat down on the bed and handed Segundus a handkerchief from his pocket.

"Please, no more tears, John. It is too much." 

Segundus wiped at his face as best he could and balled the handkerchief in his hand. 

"Now, please, will you be calm?"

"I am calm, Mr Strange." 

"I am glad to hear it. It was a small thing that happened. You shouldn't think about it anymore." 

"Thank you." 

Segundus straightened himself and turned so that he was facing Jonathan Strange. 

He could not say later what compelled him to do it, when he had just a few minutes before been resolved that things had ended, but he dropped the handkerchief in his hand to the floor and took Strange by the front of his shirt and pulled him to him in a kiss. 

Strange was surprised and took a moment for him to respond to the kiss he found himself in so suddenly. By the time Segundus was finally being kissed back, he had pushed Strange on to the bed and crawled on top of him. 

Strange soon broke the kiss and put a hand on Segundus' chest.

"What is this?" he asked.

"Aren't you pleased?"

"Well, yes, but-" 

Segundus kissed him again while trying to undo buttons as quickly as he could.

"Segundus, Segundus. Stop." 

He did and looked down at Strange, who was quite rumpled from the pair of hands that had been working so furiously at his clothes. 

"If this proceeds, I will have to leave immediately after. Immediately. So, I don't want you to be hurt if I am quickly out of bed and back home." 

"It doesn't matter," said Segundus. 

Strange pulled Segundus down to him down this time and once they were kissing again, he began to devote as much energy to undressing Segundus as Segundus was to undressing him. There was a jumble of wrinkled clothes, half very fine and half soft from age and wear, on the floor in minutes and in the bed Segundus bit his lip to stop from crying out as he felt himself being touched and held and stroked again. He pushed himself desperately into Strange's grip. He had steadied himself with a hand on Strange's shoulder and his fingernails dug in.

"God, Segundus," he said. Segundus moved harder against him and his hand grasped for purchase at Strange. "Oh, that's good."

He raked his nails down Strange's chest, making rows of pink scratch lines on his skin. 

"Too much," said Strange. "Too much. Don't leave marks, please." 

Their love making was hectic and quick and it wasn't long before they were finished. 

Strange, as he had said he would do, pulled on his clothes in a rush after last a kiss to Segundus' forehead and wiping himself clean. Before turning it into a conveyance to return home, Strange used the mirror in Segundus' room to straighten his hair and smooth his clothes.


	4. Chapter 4

When Segundus heard of Arabella Strange's death, he could think of nothing but his wish that he knew Strange's secret of the mirror. 

He wanted very much to go to Strange, and comfort him if he could. The distance in England was far, but short by the way Strange used, only a matter of minutes from his cold, bare room to Strange's home.

Segundus did not even especially wish for romantic closeness, truth to be told, only to see that Strange was well, or well enough. He did not think for a moment that the man would be truly well at all, considering what had happened. Segundus imagined that he might bring Mr Strange food, or make sure he went to bed when he needed sleep, or take care of the small things that Strange would have no energy for. 

Segundus was very regretful, as it happened, that his letter of complaint against Norrell and his actions regarding the erstwhile school had left when it did, surely to have arrived at a most inconvenient time in Strange's grief. He was not surprised to have no reply to that letter even if he did admit to himself that it was disappointing. He thought of writing another letter to apologize for the first, but decided against it. Each day, he watched the mirror, wishing it would to take him to Jonathan Strange.

 

It was two days after Mrs Strange's funeral when Segundus went up to his room early one afternoon and found Jonathan Strange pacing his floor. 

Segundus' heart could not decide to leap or drop. He had wanted so much to see Mr Strange and now he was here. But the Strange that looked up from his pacing to him was not the man Segundus had last seen.

He was pale, his hair and clothes disheveled in a way very unlike him, and he had not shaved or possibly, by the circles under his eyes, even slept since the funeral.

Segundus forgot himself called out "Mr Strange" as he rushed up to him, stopping just short of embracing him.

"You must be quiet, Segundus. It's the middle of the day." Strange paused and blinked down at Segundus. "It is, right?"

"Yes, sir. But there is no one here."

"Here?"

"Starecross Hall, Mr Strange. I moved, remember? It was meant to be a school, but now-"

"Yes, of course," said Strange. He looked around the room and it was obvious that he only now saw it was not the same place he had visited before. 

"Sit down, please," said Segundus. He took Strange by the arm, leading him to the bed.

"John?"

"Yes?"

"Is it Wednesday?"

"Yes, Mr Strange. It is Wednesday." Segundus put a hand to Mr Strange's soft curls, in such disarray at the moment and his hand slid down his rough cheek. "If you would like, I think you might feel better if you, and excuse me please, were a little tidied. Can I?"

Strange nodded and Segundus went to his chest of drawers, where he retrieved his hair brush and his shaving kit.

"Sit back, Mr Strange," he said. "It's alright."

Strange closed his eyes and Segundus set the shaving kit on the bed.

"I will need some water. I am only leaving for a moment. Please, stay here."

Segundus ran downstairs and warmed some water on the stove. He poured it in a bowl when he was done and went back upstairs, stopping for a clean cloth on the way. As he opened the door, Segundus was afraid that Mr Strange would have gone but he was where Segundus had left him. His arms full, Segundus walked to the bed. 

"Mr Strange? It's John Segundus. You are still with me, at Starecross."

Strange nodded absently.

"I am going to shave you now, if that's alright?"

Strange waved his hand like he did not much care what was done to him.

Segundus took the water to the bed and sat with the bowl between his legs. He took the shaving soap and lathered it in his hands and then applied to Strange's face. He wiped his hands on the duvet and then picked up the razor. He lifted it to Strange’s face with as much care as he could and began to slowly shave away the stubble, stopping to rinse the razor every few strokes. He made a small nick as he worked, only once, and dabbed at it with the sleeve of his shirt. Strange, for his part, did not flinch when it happened. When Strange's face and neck were smooth Segundus wiped them clean with the cloth. 

He set the shaving things on the floor and then picked up the hairbrush. 

Strange was leaned against the bed, his head resting on the wall. Segundus knelt next to Strange, and brushed loose the tangles from Strange's hair. Strange groaned once as he worked through a bad one and opened his eyes briefly. He did not seem troubled by what he saw and closed them again.

When he was done, Segundus quietly set all of the things on the top of his dresser and then returned to bed. 

"Segundus?"

"Yes, Mr Strange, I am still here."

"It did not work."

"What did not work?"

"I could not bring her back." 

"Oh, Mr Strange." 

Segundus took Strange into his arms and Strange sobbed against his chest. 

When he had finished, Segundus laid him in the bed and pulled the covers over him, and soon, Strange was asleep. 

Segundus curled next to him, and was soon asleep himself. 

 

It was dark when Segundus woke to a pair of hands underneath his clothes and kisses to his jawline.

"There is no one here?" Strange asked into his ear. His face against Segundus' was smooth now and smelled of Segundus' own shaving soap. 

"No. I am alone all this week." His voice caught as his breeches were undone and yanked down his legs and then pulled off in another tug, left somewhere at the end of the bed. Cold hands rubbed at him and pulled him closer, where he could feel Strange’s hardness pressed against him. 

Strange rolled him somewhat roughly over so that the two men were looking each other in the eyes. When he had done that, he seemed to have lost some of his focus and paused, his heavy breathing slowing, and stared down at Segundus. 

"I cannot bear it, John."

Segundus reached up and held Strange gently by the back of the neck.

"It is a terrible thing that has happened to you." 

"I want to lie here, John, and feel nothing for a while. Nothing but you. Is that possible?" 

"Mr Strange," Segundus said. "We have never...It is an act I have never done. And you are bereaved. Are you sure this is wise?

Strange stared down at him and Segundus was undone by Strange resting his forehead against his chest and saying his name one more time, as a question.

"Lie down, Mr Strange," he whispered. "I am here."

Strange lay on the bed and Segundus took off his shirt, the only clothes he still had on. He and Strange worked together on Strange’s clothes until Strange was naked.

“I will tell you what to do, Segundus,” he said. 

“I know a little, from other times, when I have been with you.” 

“Good,” said Strange. 

Segundus retrieved the lubrication that they used and leaned over Strange’s body to prepare him, spreading his legs.

“Yes,” said Strange as he felt Segundus’ fingers on him. “That is what I want.” 

Segundus took a moment to kiss Strange before he moved into place, but he did not think it was well received. Strange let the kiss end quickly and asked one more time, as he moved Segundus to him, if they were alone.

 

Strange slept until early morning. Segundus felt him move away from him and then there was the prickle of an icy morning against his skin when blankets were pushed back. He heard Strange’s feet hit the floor and soft noise of him sorting his clothes from Segundus’.

Segundus stayed facing the wall for a long time. When he rolled over, Strange was dressed. 

"I will not be able to come again, by the way that I have. I should not have done it this time." 

Segundus was still thinking of how he should respond when Strange spoke again.

"Without the mirror, it will be hard for us to meet." 

"Yes," said Segundus. "It is very far, between our homes."

"Segundus, I am not sure you understand. I think, after this-"

Strange stopped and sighed, thinking of how to soften his words. In the bed, one of Segundus' feet poked out from under the covers. 

"I would like to keep you as a confidante, John, if I can. May I write?"

"Of course, Mr Strange."

"Thank you. I am sorry for it." 

Strange turned to put on his shoes and did not look back at the dark bedroom before the mirror shone just a bit and he stepped into it and away from Segundus for the last time. 

 

It was not until three weeks later that Strange sent a short letter. 

It offered and apology and an explanation, that it was a promise to his wife that would keep him from using their usual means of meeting. The letter was bleak, full of remorse for the times that he not kept the promise previously, especially the last one. Strange did not blame Segundus of course, but he knew that he was recriminated in it and his guilt over the affair with Strange multiplied beyond what he could ever have thought it would. If he had known, he thought, he could have spoken to Strange about it, but he had not. 

Strange ended the letter saying that he would write more later, when he was able. Thankfully, he did, though the wait was very long for Segundus.

He sent updates on the book he wrote and mentioned that he had taken pupils. 

Strange could not have known how this news stung. 

Studying with Strange had been the thing that Segundus wanted most of anything, besides the man's affection. If he could not have that any more, as it seemed he could not, then he still had being his student as a possibility, however vague and fanciful to, hang on to. But Strange had formally take pupils and he was not one. It had not even been mentioned. Of course, Segundus was far away and had no money to establish himself in a house as the other students would. There was also, he had to consider, the possibility that these men were simply better magicians. 

Segundus began his life as a madhouse keeper, a thing which tired him and offered some distraction. 

He followed his friend's progress to Italy, where the mood of his letters was lighter for a while. 

Strange mentioned many times a young woman he had met there and Segundus told himself that he should be happy and worked very hard to be so. It was the most natural thing to have happened and he wanted to Mr Strange to be at peace again.

After all, it was not as though Jonathan Strange, England’s second magician, was ever going end his time as a widower by taking up with a poor madhouse keeper, even in secret.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have tried to make amends!

Jonathan Strange was just about all anyone could talk about. 

This, by itself, was not unusual. He had been, since becoming half of the revival of English magic and especially since becoming a war hero, a frequent topic of discussion throughout the country.  
But for for the first time, England talked of her second magician with fear. 

It was not just the rumors. Segundus had never listened to the rumors as he knew that the very last thing Strange would do was kill his wife. His friendship with Byron had caused talk as well, but not talk that anyone who knew him, who really knew him, would put any stock into. None of that bothered John Segundus for a moment.  
But he listened when there was talk of madness. 

And then Segundus heard of the pillar of darkness.

It had been months by that point since Segundus had seen Strange. He had tried not to think that the morning they had been together after Mrs Strange's funeral would be the last time they would see each other. It had been such an unhappy time and it was not how he liked to remember Jonathan Strange at all. Segundus had tried to imagine a time when Strange would return to England, whole and happy, and that then they would be able to meet. Segundus knew it would be only as friends, but the thought of a meeting with Strange as friends had been a happy one. In part, he was hoping to clear his conscience, which had been uneasy regarding how they had left things. 

But once he heard of the pillar of darkness, Segundus knew. 

He would never see his friend again. 

He could not say exactly what it was that so quickly led him to this conclusion. Segundus did not know anything at all of the magic that had trapped Strange and he had every confidence in him as a magician. But the thought that he had seen Jonathan Strange in person for the last time settled on his heart in a way that would not budge. 

He had last written to Strange two weeks before the pillar appeared. It had been such a happy a letter, and he was was sorry that it would sit somewhere it Italy where Strange would never see it. He had made some progress with Lady Pole and Strange had been so supportive and curious about each of her developments and also about the roses Segundus saw at her and Stephen Black's mouths. But he still had Strange's last letter to him, a letter of thanks, of encouragement, a letter that ended with the fantastic suggestion that Segundus was feeling the effects of magic and that what he was doing was by making notes on Lady Pole's condition was extremely important. 

Segundus had said small goodbyes and large ones to Strange, and now he said a last one. He said it far away from Strange, and to himself, reading that last letter from Strange and letting it be what he took with him of Jonathan Strange. 

 

Everything was wrong. 

Well, not wrong perhaps, but off. Everything was off in a very large way. 

For one, opening his eyes was nearly impossible due to the sting and the dizziness he felt each time he tried. It had not taken long to discover the cause. In truth, given the unusual and frightening things that had been happening and happening very quickly lately, Segundus was not surprised to find himself, after months of exposure to it, completely blinded by magic and on the floor of his room in the smallest hours of the morning. 

Thankfully, he had been discovered soon after falling from his bed and now, was being led around when he needed to go somewhere. The household was alarmed by this and further by the ceaseless darkness that was even deeper than the winter night it enveloped . Segundus tried to comfort all of the nervous servants, but was far from convincing as he could not walk on his own and had vomited a few times as well. Segundus was calm, however, and that helped. If he was honest, under the worry was a twinge of curiosity and even excitement. He sent everyone back to bed and waited in his own room for some time, thinking of the notes he would make when he was able and could see again. 

And then, the oddest thing of all happened: two of the male servants knocked timidly on his door and Segundus was told that John Childermass had arrived and needed to see him urgently. Segundus did not dress, but felt his way down the stairs and presented himself as assertively as he could in the doorway as he could while wearing his dressing gown. 

He thought at first that he was pursued by Norrell again, perhaps this time for his writings concerning Lady Pole. He was prepared to defend himself, but it turned out not to be necessary. Segundus was shocked to see Childermass at the door bloodied and with a mutilated face, more shocked in some ways than he was at many other things that were happening. Childermass said he had something of Lady Pole's and he entered the house. 

They were led to Lady Pole by Charles after it was discovered, when the man crumbled to the floor, that Childermass was even more susceptible to the magic in the house than he was. Segundus wondered if his excitement over this knowledge and at all that was happening was wrong, but he could not help but feel kinship with the only other person feeling as he felt on that morning.   


And then it happened. 

Segundus had seen the finger laid against Lady Pole's hand and lamented at first that Strange wasn't there. He had rarely missed Strange so much in the moment, but it was only a moment.  
He was told to do the magic and he did. 

Fumbling, he had made the tool needed to complete it with the help of the shaking maid who could not but be frightened once she knew what was to be done but would not abandon her Lady and stood in the corner as Segundus began the spell, as resolute as she could be, gripping her skirt and mouthing prayers. 

John Childermass had stood with him while he did the magic, while he said the words that woke Lady Pole. John Childermass had been in the room in the second of quiet when the cross he had made from Lady Pole's bodkin and ribbons dropped to the floor and gave a clatter. Segundus had been so shocked by the feeling of magic being done, of himself doing magic, that he had fallen back and it was John Childermass' hand that caught him. 

And then Lady Pole had sat up in her chair and she was recovered. 

The rest of the day passed in a blur. He knew he returned to his room and dressed because he later in the day, he looked down and was no longer in his dressing gown. He had brushed his hair at some point because when he passed a mirror, he was neat. But Segundus did not remember doing these things specifically. He felt that he was stared by the servants with an air of awe. He knew he spoke to Lady Pole and had food brought and arranged for her to write letters. When he thought back on the day, he sometimes remembered a tingling that moved through his body. 

The most distinct memory of what happened after the magic was when Childermass returned later in the day with news that the pillar of darkness had disappeared with the magicians inside. He still wore his bloodied shirt, but his face was clean now. Despite the air of confusion and tiredness about him, he did not stay. 

The news that Strange was gone from England cut through the tiredness and haze that had defined the rest of the day, as did the memory of a shirt speckled with brown red stains, and a pale face where a wound should have been.


	6. Chapter 6

The first meeting of the newly reinstated York Society of Magicians had gone about as well as could be expected. 

Segunuds had stood quietly except for his one question, posed to Childermass and answered by him. 

"Where have they gone?" 

He had already felt that he would not see Strange again and wasn't surprised to hear that Childermass agreed that Strange and Norrell would not be returning to England, at least while anyone in the room on that night was alive. What had been surprising was where Childermass thought they had gone. Segundus had thought on that question himself from time to time in the months that had passed since the day the two magicians had disappeared and had imagined many different scenarios that he was forced to quickly dismiss before he allowed himself to bogged down by the question. Childermass' phrasing of his answer to where the two magicians had gone made it seem like not a bad place at all that they might be, in fact like something that was more or less natural for Strange and Norrell. Standing with Honeyfoot at the edge of the crowd and listening to Childermass, Segundus felt peace introduced into his heart. 

Segundus had wondered if Childermass would mention to the other members of the group the magic that had returned Lady Pole to England for good, but he had not in the end. Segundus felt however he was watched by Childermass to see if it should be. He had answered by turning his eyes down that he was not ready. 

The meeting had been very long and left Segundus feeling both excited and drained by the time it was over. He had a drink with Honeyfoot after the formal speaking was done and then excused himself. When he left to go his room, many people were still engaged in talking and arguing and drinking together, the tables becoming sticky as drinks were sloshed when points were made or refuted. 

Segundus didn't sleep when he got to his room but then, he hadn't sleep much at all in the recent months, so this did not feel unusual. 

The world had changed. He had done magic. 

He had lived for years thinking he would study magic and admire magicians. Now, he lived in a world in which when he looked in the mirror at himself he looked at a magician. A practical magician who had broken a fairy enchantment kneeling on the floor of his home with a lady's severed finger in one hand and her bodkin and ribbon another. 

Segundus had imagined that he would think a lot about Strange, which he did. He missed Strange's friendship and it still stung when he realized there would never be another letter from him, or a time for them to meet and talk as friends again. But the ache was not as profound as he had braced himself for. Perhaps he was stronger than he had thought, or perhaps it was his busy life. 

Arabella Strange had returned to England a few weeks ago. Segundus had never once thought that Strange had killed his wife, but was as surprised as anyone when he heard that she was in Italy with Strange's friends the Greysteels and would soon be on her way home. Since hearing that, he had thought several times a day about if he should write to her and what he should say, should he decide to. Returning to the home she had once shared with her husband without him would no doubt be difficult and he did not want to make it more difficult just because he wanted to hear that she was well and offer any comfort or assistance he could, just because he wanted to speak to someone else who had loved Strange even if he never said those words. 

It was that, and all of the information presented at the meeting that kept him awake. 

He started writing while he waited for quiet to overtake the inn or for sleep to overtake him. If he fell asleep at his desk tonight, it wouldn't be the first time he had found his only rest for the evening with his cheek inches from his writing and his quill dropped to the floor. Tonight, what he picked up was a thing which he had started and abandoned time and time again over the last months; a book about Jonathan Strange. He had started with an account of their first meeting, though that was not where he would begin the book, should it ever become a reality. Each time he reread what he had written, he was not sure if he had accurately captured the intimacy of being in someone else's dream and was then not sure it was something he wanted to share anyway. 

Segundus got so lost in his writing that he hadn't noticed that he could no longer hear the sounds of voices and people moving coming from downstairs.  
When he looked outside, he saw that the street had gone still as well. 

He stood up from his journal and left his room. 

As he passed through, Segundus saw that the inn's tables were being cleared of glasses and the stray member of the York Society who had fallen asleep leaned over on their arms. 

Outside, Segundus stood on the steps watching the sky and and wondered if he would see morning arrive yet again without sleep. He felt he should be tired but he was not. 

He was interrupted in his thinking by a scratching noise and a small moment of brightness from a match that illuminated John Childermass lighting his pipe. 

"You're up late, Mr Segundus," said Childermass from his space beside the steps. "I would say early, but it's clear you haven't been to bed yet."

"It has been an exciting evening." 

"A very exciting evening." 

Childermass stepped toward him and stood at the bottom of the steps. 

"Would company be welcome or not?" asked Childermass. 

"I think it would. Thank you." 

Childermass climbed the stairs in a few movements of his long legs and stood next to him. 

"You aren't has happy as I thought you might be, Mr Segundus." 

"What do you mean?"

"You have done enviable magic. It's a thing that would make many people today very happy. But you have spoken of it to no one." 

"I do not want to intrude on Lady Pole's privacy. Things are very difficult for her right now."

Childermass nodded his noncommittal way that meant he could have thought anything about what Segundus had said. 

"You aren't happy," he said, "but I don't think you're sad either." 

"I'm not sure what I am."

"Except for a magician."

"Yes," said Segundus. "I guess I can be sure that I'm that at least." 

Segundus sighed and sat down on the damp steps of the inn. The first hints that night was passing had shown on the sky, the beginning of morning pushing up through the black. He didn't know what it was that made him ask what he did, other than the remembrance of a time months ago when Childermass had been present when he had done magic. When the shock of it had knocked him backwards and Childermass had caught him, he had smelled briefly the same pipe smoke he smelled now. It was a pleasant memory and the night had been long. 

"Childermass. May I ask you a question?" 

Childermass took a puff of his pipe and sat down next to Segundus. 

"You may."

"Do you miss Mr Norrell?" 

It took Childermass several exhaled breaths of smoke to respond.

"I do. More of my life was spent in his service than not." 

"Do you fare well? Now that he's gone?"

"I do," said Childermass. "In my way." 

He set his pipe down the side where Segundus wasn't sitting. 

"What will you do for the rest of the morning, Mr Segundus?"

"I don't exactly know."

"I would suggest sleep, if you can find it for a minute or two. I've heard that you have many projects in the works."

"I've heard the same of you." 

Childermass was the first to stand and Segundus followed. Segundus had thought their conversation was over, but as he reached the door of the inn. Childermass spoke again. 

"Have you done any magic, since that day?"

"No, though I can feel it that it hasn't left me. And I can feel that I will do more magic in the future."

Segundus dropped his hand and turned back to Childermass, who hadn't moved from where he stood. 

"What magic do you do?"

"Nothing of note," said Childermass and he nodded in parting. 

What he didn't tell Segundus was that on the day Lady Pole was freed from her enchantment and the magicians had disappeared that he had read his cards to make sense of the day and the days to come. Childermass did not tell him that he was sure what he saw told him of Segundus: power met with reluctance, of things yet to be done that were somehow both quiet and remarkable, and of love lost to some place far away, some place dark.


	7. Chapter 7

From time to time, Childermass and Vinculus would, when they passed through, spend a few days or so at Starecross. 

Segundus' writing projects would find a helpful pair of eyes then and the large hall, still unoccupied of the intended students, would be a bit more lively. Segundus always looked forward to a letter saying they would arrive soon, or the unexpected sound of the two bickering as they approached the house when they had not gotten to write before arriving. Segundus especially looked forward to talks with Childermass about their work and the state of magic in England. Their were many magicians in England now, but none that understood what magic meant to him like Childermass did. It was one of his joys these days, to talk with Childermass over a meal or a book or a piece of work, and feel the surprise that it had gotten dark while they were speaking or just sitting together over a project, or sometimes light again. 

On this particular late September day, there was rain hitting in the window in oddly timed pings when the wind decided to throw it against the glass of the window. The room where Childermass and Segundus were sitting was nearly empty but for them and the desk and each noise had room to move freely and bounce from the walls and ceiling. It would one day be a library for a school though now the shelves where books would hopefully sit were more bare than not.

Though it was only 3:00, several candles had been lit against the darkness the clouds had brought. There were a few more than necessary, but Segundus did not like dark when it should it not be dark. Childermass did not question the excess. They had sat in quiet for most of the afternoon, Segundus writing and Childermass reading a chapter of Segundus' biography of Jonathan Strange for him. 

The first change in several hours was when Childermass put down the draft of Segundus' writing he had been reading on the desk. 

"It's very good," he said. 

"Would you suggest any changes?" 

Childermass looked at the paper he had sat down and then over at the man who had filled it with the words it carried. 

"They would be small," he said. "But there is something else I wanted to ask about this book on Mr Strange." 

"What is it?"

"I will need to be candid. You're not obliged to answer." 

Segundus set aside his work. Childermass was peering down at his hands now, folded in his lap, thinking on his words. It wasn't often Segundus saw Childermass unsure, but he felt he was now. 

"What I want to ask is this; has it helped?" 

"I don't understand," said Segundus. 

"Has it helped?" To say goodbye to him, to write this?" 

It was Segundus' turn to look away from the dark eyes that hadn't left him. 

"You have guessed. And you're not shocked." 

"There are many shocking things in the world. That a person loves another isn't really one of them." 

"When put like that," muttered Segundus. 

"I am only...I am only sorry. It's not something you deserved." 

Childermass turned his face from Segundus and back to the writing on the table, pages where so many of the words were Jonathan Strange's name. Segundus realized that Childermass was showing sympathy for a heart broken by unrequited love, not by having it lost. He had carried the love for Strange for so long and then the loss of him and he had never told anyone. But now, there was a chance. He would not be judged, he knew. He was safe. 

"There was more," he whispered. "There was more than you know between Mr Strange and me." 

"Mr Segundus?" 

He started speaking quickly before he lost his nerve. 

"I was alone on Christmas some years ago and very sad about it. I did something I normally don't do and had some wine by myself. I wrote a letter, a very foolish letter. But my heart was so heavy and I loved him so much. I sent it before I lost my nerve and then-" 

One of the candles at his side had reached its end and its light drowned in a pool of wax followed by a wavering line of smoke. Segundus focused on that as he continued to speak. 

"The reply told me me to buy a mirror. And to wait. I did and he came to me. I didn't know, when he arrived that night, exactly what would happen, but I saw him come through the mirror and I was weak. We sat together in my room and he did magic until I was nearly dizzy from it. And then..."

The memory of that first day was still very clear, how he had gripped Strange's leg as Strange had done a spell that had turned a button that had fallen off one of Segundus' coats into glass. He had been so shocked at the sight of it, and then Strange had taken him to the window, where he called some clouds like obedient dogs to toward them. It had been then that Strange had kissed him. And he had not heard, in his voice until he stopped speaking, how wistful he sounded, as though Strange were still there, reaching behind Segundus with one hand to pull the curtains closed while he pressed him to the wall next to the window where they had watched the clouds. 

"I see," said Childermass. 

"And you're still not shocked? Or disappointed in me?"

"I could not be that. Though I doubt Mr Strange was aware of how fortunate he was to have your affection. He daresay he squandered it." Childermass' hand moved toward his across the desk and the tips of their fingers touched. "Not everyone would, Mr Segundus."

"John..." 

Childermass blinked in surprise at the sound of his Christian name and then at Segundus' fingers withdrawn from his. 

"Am I not welcome?" 

"You are." 

"In this way?" 

Why did he remember a glass button like it was a token of love now? And why did he withdraw his fingers from Childermass', when the feeling had been so pleasant, and just what he had wanted? And why did it have to hurt so, to feel his heart shift to make room for new for love, to accept this man who sat for hours to read for him what he had written about someone he was aware the whole time Segundus had loved?

Segundus stood and pushed back his chair. 

"I'm so sorry. You must think me very cruel. Excuse me." 

He crossed the room in a handful of paces and opened the door. He didn't stop walking until he heard Childermass' steps behind him on the stairs. 

"Mr Segundus. John. Please. Wait." 

He turned and Childermass was only steps below him. He took another step up and was at Segundus' eye level now. 

"You do not have to run" he said. 

"But I have-" 

"You have done nothing," said Childermass, taking his elbow and then dropping it again quickly. "It is only a matter of no or yes, of letting me know."

"Forgive me, said Segundus, "I have done wrong again." 

 

Segundus did not come out of his room until morning, though it was early when he did and the house was still but for his own movements as he went about beginning his day.

It had been a fitful night's sleep, thinking of all the damage he had done. He had grown so close to Childermass and now, he had ruined everything, he was sure.

It was still dark when he dressed and went down to the kitchen. He wasn't hungry, or anything but tired of being in bed alone with his thoughts. Because he had to do something once he he was in the kitchen, he boiled some water and made tea that he stood with, inhaling the scent while the cup warmed him his hands. The tea was cold by the time he heard footsteps on the stairs. He put down the cup and went toward them, not sure what he would say when he got to Childermass. Segundus met him as he reached the front door of the house. 

"Mr Segundus," said Childermass. He reached for his coat and pulled int onto himself, his back to Segundus. "We will leave you now. I only have to go wake Vinculus." 

"I must explain," said Segundus. Childermass had his hat in his hand now and it went on too. 

"It's probably best if we don't speak of it again. I had thought one thing and it was different than I did. That is all." 

"But it isn't. It isn't all." 

Childermass put his hands into his pockets but he didn't move for the door. 

"Please," said Segundus. "Take off your coat and hat." 

He did, slowly, and hung them where had been before. 

"You say I was not wrong?" 

"No. Far from it." 

"You ran from me yesterday." 

Segundus walked to Childermass, reaching out when he was close and could touch him. The first part of Childermass he met was his wrist and he held it and then moved down to take his hand. 

"Only because I know so little of this." 

He reached up for a kiss, one began with a series of halts as each kissed softly in turn and then waited for the other. But soon, Segundus had wrapped his arms around Childermass' neck and their mouths were open to a longer, deeper kiss. They allowed themselves this for as long as they could given the open place they were in, two men embracing in such a way, and then pulled away.

"Is leaving necessary?" asked Segundus. 

"I think it won't hurt to wait a bit longer yet. Or to leave to tomorrow, or the day after." 

"Then, please. Come upstairs with me." 

Segundus led Childermass to the stairs and they climbed them together and went into his room. 

Segundus was pushed against the door as it closed behind him but he had already been reaching for Childermass by then. He thudded against the door, his hips pressed to Childermass. Childermass leaned down and rested his cheek against Segundus'

"I will still do this," he said. "Even if I am only consolation for Mr Strange."

"You aren't that," said Segundus. "You are...you are you."

The men moved into the kiss at the same time and Segundus wrapped his arms around back around Childermass and held his shoulders. 

Childermass began undressing him there at the door as they kissed, undoing buttons and dropping clothes to floor as they came loose or were pulled over his head and kissing each new fresh bit of skin he found hidden under the layers. Segundus' breeches were the last of his clothes to go and he felt himself lifted a little off his feet was they were slid off and he wrapped a leg around Childermass, who grabbed him under his buttocks. Segundus wasn't surprised how strong Childermass was, how easily he held him when both his legs were wrapped around his waist. Childermass carried him to the bed and the two dropped together onto the mattress. Childermass took a long moment to study the body underneath him when they were comfortable and lying down. 

Segundus was not surprised at how natural it felt to be here with Childermass, his clothes rough against his against bare skin, moving kisses down his body. They had been so comfortable lately, so at ease in their talking and sharing of ideas. Comfort with the man's body was just as welcome and easy, he found.  
When Segundus reached for Childermass' buttons he was met with a groan at the slightest touch of his hands and more as they each came undone and then clothes brushed against him as they came off. 

John Segundus would not have expected that there would a second lover in his life, a second man to come to his bed with him, a second body to get to know and to allow to know his. But it was a very fine thing. It was a very fine thing to hold Childermass, to his hear his breath, all his noises of pleasure. It was a very fine thing to feel Childermass' body draped over his after his release and his forehead resting against his, to then feel Childermass moving him in the bed to better reach him. 

Some things could not be helped however and they both needed to dress within minutes of taking a their last kisses. There was a day starting around them. 

Segundus felt, looking over his shoulder to see Childermass pulling on his shirt, how different this time had been, how different things could be. 

He did not need to have magic done for him now. He could do magic on his own, and with this dark haired man sitting at the edge of his bed.

**Author's Note:**

> Dear OP:  
> Thank you for this prompt and for being cool.


End file.
